


pardon my french (je ne regrette rien)

by lethargicProfessor



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Assassin AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:44:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethargicProfessor/pseuds/lethargicProfessor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's never missed a mark, and he's not about to start.</p>
<p>(In which Lavi is an assassin, and his target is more than he bargained for.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. entre vous et moi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kandayuu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kandayuu/gifts).



> you’re a highly successful & influential person and i’m a professional assassin that was hired to date you and learn your secrets before killing you but i think i have feelings for you now? haha oops
> 
> professional assassin lavi hired to date the highly successful young woman lenalee lee and he acts all charming and sweet with her as he digs further into her life and learns all her secrets but spending all that time with her means realizing what an impressive and intelligent and no-nonsense and kind and caring woman she really is and oh dear he’s fallen for her but what can he do if he doesn’t finish the job he’ll b in huge trouble and lenalee’s starting to suspect something’s up but he can’t just tell her ha h a isn’t that quite the pickle :p

He receives his mission from the old man as always, the casual bump in the subway that leaves him with a sharp pinch to the ribs and a flash drive in his pocket. (Someday, he’ll ask the old man how he does it. It gets harder and harder every time to spot him until they’re side by side.)

From the subway he heads to his flat, a tiny little rundown thing that serves as his base of operations in the city. It’s in a sketchy neighborhood, but the rent is cheap and no one asks questions. It’s the perfect place to set up. There’s not much furniture, just a cot and a coffee table, but it’s alright. He’s lived in worse places, and he doesn’t have to worry about paying anything himself. It’s one of the few perks of the Organization.

The room quickly fills with the smell of coffee as he settles down on the floor, laptop on the table, flipping the flash drive around absently. He hopes this mission is easier than the last; infiltration takes longer, but is easier than straight assassination. It’s certainly easier to clean up after himself.

With a soft beep, he logs into his system, plugging in the flash drive to view the files. It’s a bit of a relief, taking note of the files and pictures. Everything’s been set up for him already, from the looks of things, but he can’t afford to be careless. He didn’t get to be one of the best in the Organization by being sloppy.

Agent 49 was many things, but sloppy was not one of them. He prided himself in that.

He scans the files with a sigh, taking note of the documentation. He is to infiltrate the Lee Industries offices, and track down relevant information for the Organization. That was simple enough. He had an alias pre-prepared, along with a stunning resume. Depending on the encryption in the Lee system, data collection would take anywhere between a couple of weeks to a couple of months. A standard mission, then.

Or so he thinks, until he moves on to the next page, to the secondary mission.

The picture had been taken from a tabloid, the headline barely cropped out of the frame. The woman was the focus, though. Her mouth was set into a tight frown, and even in the picture he could see the clench in her jaw. She was in the process of stepping into a cab, short hair caught in the wind.

Lenalee Lee, COO of Lee Industries, heir apparent to the company, is the target. Still, as he stares at the picture, his stomach turns. It’s more than a simple assassination. His orders are to join the company, get the data, and to somehow wrangle a date with the COO to learn her secrets before disposal.

He can manage it. He hopes.

Agent 49 sighs, closing his eyes, pushing the uneasy feeling away. He’s not one of the best for nothing.

* * *

 

Lavi Bookman walks into the lobby of Lee Industries and freezes, looking around the massive building in awe. It’s all tall ceilings and marble columns, tastefully decorated with greenery and elegant seating. There’s a fountain burbling along to his left, a long receptionist desk across it.

He walks to the receptionist, an embarrassed flush on his face. The receptionist, for their part, looks equal parts amused and concerned. “First time seeing it?”

“Yeah.” Lavi pats his face, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He hurriedly pushes them back up, shooting the receptionist a blinding smile. “Um, sorry about that. I have an appointment for an interview today?”

The receptionist – their plaque says Alma Karma – grins, tapping at their computer. “Name?”

“Uh, Bookman. Lavi?” He leans on the counter, looking around curiously. “I’m supposed to be seeing someone at three, I think.”

Alma hums, nodding at their screen before turning back to Lavi. “Three o’clock. If you want, you can head up there now.” They hand him a visitor’s pass and point towards the bank of elevators. “42nd floor. That’s HR.”

“Thanks!” With a jaunty wave, Lavi walks to the elevators, his glasses logging the locations of the security cameras with ease. Security is standard in the lobby, but it means nothing. There’s still a lot more to see.

The elevator opens with a soft ding, and Agent 49 steps inside. He stretches casually against the wall, and again, his glasses pick up a camera. This one is hidden behind a panel (according to his screen), but again, nothing too suspicious. Granted, if someone knew the camera was there, it would start an absolute shitstorm for the company.

It’s something to keep in mind if he needs to get someone off his back.

The elevators open to another reception area, this one smaller than the lobby. The woman behind the counter is frowning at her computer like it has personally offended her, and only glances up when Lavi approaches the counter. “How can I help you?”

Her badge reads Brigitte Fey, the scowling face in the picture a mirror image to the scowl directed at Lavi. Still, he smiles, tapping his fingers on the counter. “Good afternoon. I have an interview with a…Mister Wenham, I believe?”

She nods, returning to her computer. “Take a seat, please.”

Effectively dismissed, Lavi makes his way to a small waiting area, fussing with his glasses. He’s thankful the display logs everything automatically to the Organization server; if he had to do it himself he would have cracked a long time ago. As it is, the information running through his glasses is giving him a damn migraine.

The only sound is the ticking of a clock and Brigitte’s annoyed typing, the occasional slamming door echoing down the halls. He’s patient, though. Once he meets with the Department Manager, he can get to work on tracking down files. After some time, he might even get a chance to meet with the second target.

The soft click of heels catches his attention, and it takes all of his training to keep himself from breaking character.

Lenalee Lee herself walks over, an easy smile on her face. Behind her is a man he assumes is the Department Head, Wenham. Lavi jumps to his feet, returning the woman’s smile. “Hello...”

“You must be Lavi.” Miss Lee holds her hand out to shake, her grip strong for such a tiny person. Lavi nods, turning to shake with Wenham as well.

Wenham offers Lavi a tired smile, motioning down the hall they came from. “Sorry about the wait. We had something come up that needed our immediate attention.”

Lavi shrugs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I understand. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

“Thank you for coming,” Miss Lee replies, smiling as she walks alongside them. “My brother was very impressed with your resume.”

“Your brother?” Lavi asks, feigning ignorance. Of course he knows all about Komui Lee – CEO, philanthropist, scientist, inventor. The man was the definition of jack of all trades, bouncing from one industry to the next with an unprecedented zeal. He had pioneered quite a few technologies, including some that the Organization had adapted for its own uses. It was part of the reason he was there in the first place.

Lenalee raises an eyebrow at him, pushing the door to a conference room open. “My brother is the CEO here.”

“I-I knew that,” he smiles sheepishly, stepping behind her to hold the door open for her. “I was just surprised he had seen my resume too.”

“He likes to know the people who work for him,” Lenalee nods her thanks, stepping into the empty room with a confidence that only came with power. Wenham follows after her, setting a stack of papers down on the table.

Agent 49 pauses at the door for a moment, letting the tension seep from his shoulders. He’s played this role hundreds of times, and he knows he can do it beautifully. Something about this target though, this mission, is setting him on edge. He slaps a smile on his face, walking towards the table.

The sooner he kills her, the better.


	2. the stakes are getting higher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kandayuu asked:  
> formal events are not my thing these shoes are new and this is a very long staircase at least you were at the bottom to break my fall I’m so sorry au for lavi/lenalee ;

The old man meets him in the park, taking a seat behind his bench, opening his newspaper with a sharp snap.

Agent 49 waits for his instructions, thumbing through his phone casually, smothering a yawn. It’s early morning, and besides a few joggers, they’re relatively alone. A small breeze rattles the dying leaves overhead, and then there is silence.

Finally, the old man sighs, flipping the page in his newspaper. “You have another mission.”

Surprising, but not too uncommon. Missions are dropped all the time with little warning. Agent 49 continues looking through his phone, face carefully blank. “What do I do about this one?”

“You’re still doing it.” He could almost see the man frown into his newspaper. “There is word that some federal agents have caught wind of our operation. You need to find out what they know.”

“How long do I have?” An infiltration into a government agency would take time, which would mean taking time off work. People would ask questions, especially the nosy ones in the Lee tech department.

“You do it tonight.” All the calculations in his head disappear at the terse answer, and he fights the urge to do a double take at the old man. He settles for squeezing his phone, scowling at the screen.

The geezer has the gall to chuckle as he stands, folding the newspaper haphazardly, wandering down the path without a backwards glance.

The agent waits on the bench another ten minutes before leaving as well, taking the newspaper and package along with him.

The package, stuffed into the newspaper, contains a flash drive, an invitation, and an address scrawled onto the back of a receipt. He tucks the flash drive and invitation into his coat pocket, dumping the newspaper in the nearest trash bin.

The address leads him across town, to a small tailor shop set between a grungy souvenir shop and a deli. It’s inconspicuous, all dark browns and tinted windows, and only the tiny sign on the door that reads ‘Welcome, We’re Open!’ gives any indication that it is still a functioning business.

It’s the perfect venue for an Organization front.

A bell tinkles above his head as he walks into the shop, the inside as quiet and muted as its exterior suggests. The man behind the counter looks up, glancing at his watch. “You’re early. I didn’t expect you until later.”

“I need supplies.” He sets the invitation on the counter, quirking a smile at the disgruntled look on the man’s face.

The man walks around the counter, pushing open a door to the side, grumbling under his breath. “No ‘hi, Doug, how’ve you been?’ Just business with you people.”

“Hi, Doug,” he calls after him, leaning back against the counter. “Thanks for helping me.”

Doug sticks his tongue out at him, walking out of the storeroom with a bundle in his arms. “You’re the worst.” He dumps the bundle on the counter, spreading out its contents across it. “Do you know what you’re doing tonight?”

“Not really. No details, anyways.”

Doug hums in acknowledgement, reaching for a file under the counter. He flips through it, slipping out two pictures. 49 takes them, scowling at the contents. “You know them?”

“I’ve dealt with them before,” the agent admits. The pictures are recent according to the timestamps, but they don’t look too different from the last time they were involved. Mikk’s hair is longer, and Bell’s gotten a dye job, but that is all he can see.

Doug nods, taking the pictures back. “Then I don’t have to tell you that you need to be careful. The Organization is worried that they may have gotten some information from a double agent. The drive you got from the old man has an algorithm that will erase any data relevant to the Organization and replace it with false leads.”

“So I just have to switch out the one they have with this one?” Agent 49 guesses.

“That’s right. They’re staying at the Plaza, room 220.” Doug slides over a keycard, tapping it lightly. “This will get you in through most of their doors. Try not to use it too much if you can help it, though. The card has room information stored in a chip, just like a regular hotel card, but the encoding is…well, it’s complicated. It’s logged onto the system, so once someone notices that one card is being used in multiple places, well…”

“It won’t be good, got it.” He pockets the card, nudging the invitation still on the counter. “What’s the invitation for?”

“To get you into the hotel.” Doug makes a face, flipping through the file again. “The hotel is being used for a charity gala tonight, so only people with an invitation or registered guests can get in. Since you aren’t a registered guest, we got you an invitation. Security’s going to be tight, so the job needs your utmost discretion.”

“I’m always discrete,” the agent says, ignoring Doug’s snort. He combs through the supplies on the table – standard weapons, ammunition, glasses, suit, building plans – and sighs. “Is that all, then?”

“That’s all I have.” Doug gathers the supplies, setting them into nondescript black bag. “There’s a chance some Organization members might be at the gala, but they won’t interfere. Just make sure to finish the job as fast as you can.”

“Of course.” The smile he gives Doug almost feels real as he steps out of the shop with his supplies in hand. “See you around, Doug.”

* * *

Lavi arrives to the gala an hour after it has started, taking the time to scope out the security while searching for taxi fare. Doug’s intel wasn’t kidding about the security; he spots more armed guards, in suits and plainclothes, than he would expect for a charity event. It’s almost  _too_ extreme, but he supposes that rich people have a right to their paranoia.

His glasses log the security cameras and the readings from the guards as he casually makes his way up the steps, smiling inanely at the guards, brushing the porter away with an air of arrogance that could only come from a spoiled socialite.

A staffer takes his invitation at the door, and he follows a sizable group of people into the main foyer. His suit is a tad too big (to accommodate his equipment) and his shoes hurt, but he manages to remain inconspicuous in the group of sharply dressed men and women.

He slips away from the group as soon as he can, making his way down a long staircase that leads to the main event room. There’s fewer guards on the floor, but his glasses record a couple of figures with weapons in the mezzanine area above.

He stops at the base of the stairs, stepping to the side to avoid incoming guests, and plots his next move. He knows from the building plans that the event room has openings to a second meeting room, an emergency exit, and an elevator bank, but any security firm worth its salt would have at least a few guards stationed at each of the entries. He could cause an emergency and find the room in the panic, but that would only increase the security. Not to mention, a panic would tip off his targets.

The guests continue streaming in, and he frowns as a few jostle his shoulder in their eagerness to reach the floor. He moves away again after a particular sharp elbow to the ribs, glowering at the back of a suit.

He’s about to move on towards the elevators when a startled scream cuts through the chatter, and he feels a body collide against his back, knocking him down to the ground. He groans at the impact, the wind forced out of him, glasses clattering off his face.

Disoriented, he tries to sit up, but the person who landed on him is still pushing him down, their elbow digging painfully into the small of his back. Then there is a flurry of hands and concerned faces; at one point his glasses are unceremoniously shoved onto his face, and only when security arrives is he able to roll over and stare at his attacker.

He feels the air leave his lungs again, for a different reason this time. “Miss Lee?”

Lenalee Lee stands over him, breathing hard, hair disheveled and yet still stunning, a hand pressed against the chest of an angry-looking bodyguard. “I’m so, _so_ sorry, I lost my step on the stairs—“ Her mouth shuts almost comically as she takes a good look at him. “Lavi?”

He realizes he’s still sprawled out on the floor and scrambles to his feet, ignoring the smirk on the bodyguard’s face as he fixes his clothes. He didn’t come to the gala as Lavi, but now he has no choice to slip back into the quirky tech guy personality. “A-are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Lenalee assures him, reaching out to straighten his tie. “Are you?”

His knees hurt from the impact and it still hurts to breathe, not to mention he had quite a few dangerous instruments digging into his body, but he manages a weak smile at his target. “I’m fine! I’m fine. Just a little out of breath.”

“That’s good to hear.” She beams at him, her hand slipping from his tie to his hands. “What are you doing here?” Her hands are soft and warm, and they squeeze his as if they’re close friends and not employee and employer.

Something in his face must have shown, because she quickly removes her hands, turning to push at the bodyguard instead. “Kanda, find my brother, won’t you? He’s probably already called an ambulance or something.”

“I’m not supposed to leave you,” the bodyguard points out, glaring at Lavi, but Lenalee waves him away anyways. Grudgingly, Kanda Yuu, head of security forces stomps off, barking into a radio. His glasses cheerfully remind him that he’s a level 3 threat and should be approached with extreme caution.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Lenalee says again, tucking stray wisps of hair back into a bun. “I must have slipped or something. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m perfect,” Lavi grins, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Who doesn’t dream of falling for a pretty lady?”

She laughs at his response, already relaxing in his presence. If only she knew. “You’re sweet. But what are you doing here?”  

Lavi smiles sheepishly, brushing out his clothes again. “I um, I’m a plus-one, but I guess we got separated…”

His hopes of placating her with that are dashed when she looks around, taking hold of his wrist. “It happens at these things a lot. Who are we looking for?”

He falters, feeling his pulse spike. He needs to get out to switch the flash drives, and he’s already been compromised as it is, he can’t afford to waste time with Lenalee, but if he doesn’t follow he might push her away, making his secondary objective twice as hard. “Uh…”

“ _There_ you are,” a voice snaps, and he swears he almost faints on the spot. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“H-hi…” He turns, meeting the old man’s calm gaze. He cleans up well for an old guy, his suit neatly tailored to accommodate his short stature. “Sorry about that…”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” He says, and Agent 49 nearly seethes at the smug look on the old man’s face. He was enjoying it, that asshole.

Lavi clears his throat, easing his arm away from Lenalee’s grip. “Old man, this is Lenalee Lee. She’s the COO of Lee Industries. Miss Lee, this is um…”

“His grandfather,” the old man interjects, reaching out to shake Lenalee’s hand. She smiles at him, glancing up at Lavi curiously. He struggles to keep the smile on his face, dropping it as soon as she turns away. The old man is having a field day, he can see it in his eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Lenalee says, shaking the old man’s hand. “You’re here for the gala too?”

The old man nods, motioning at Lavi with his head. “Why don’t you go get something for us to drink, boy?”

“Yessir.” He knows an opening when he sees it, even though it cuts down his time to do his actual mission if he has to play nice with the Lees and the old man. He mock-salutes at them, winking at Lenalee, and takes off across the hall.

He isn’t sure why the old man is helping him out, but he’ll have to focus on it later. The dummy flash drive is burning a hole in his pocket, and he still hasn’t caught sight of the agents on their tail.

He hasn’t messed up a mission yet, and he’s not about to start because of a pretty face. 


	3. in just one dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this is the last one omg "I’m really sorry, I suck at dancing and you’re suppose to teach me but you’re really cute and keep distracting me so I keep stepping on you’re feet I’m so sorry" au for lavilena ;v;

The old man buys him enough time to do proper recon, and he hopes that by the time he returns, Lenalee will be so bored that she won’t bother him for the rest of the night.

(Unless the old man is feeling spiteful, in which case it might just screw him over, but he still hopes for the best.)

A quick sweep of the event room confirms his earlier theories: the elevators have guards casually positioned around them, gently ushering guests back to the event room. The emergency exit isn’t guarded, but is rigged so that an alarm sounds as soon as the door is opened.

He slips through the crowd, trying to keep track of the time. If he takes more than five minutes just to get drinks, Lenalee might get suspicious, and the last thing he needs is her poking through his business.

He peeks into the meeting room next, breath lodging in his throat as he catches sight of the occupants. With a quick apology, he steps away, letting the door fall shut behind him. He hopes they didn’t get a good look at him, but at least he knows Tyki Mikk and Lulu Bell are in the premises.

He doesn’t stay long enough to find out, blending into the crowd. He swipes a couple of glasses from a passing server and plasters a smile on his face, draping his arm over the old man’s shoulders as he hands Lenalee a drink. “Sorry I took so long! It was a nightmare trying to get back.”

He feels the old man pinch his side sharply, but manages to keep a straight face. “I hope my old man didn’t bore you.”

“Not at all,” Lenalee takes a sip of her drink, smiling politely at the old man. “He was wonderful company.”

“You don’t have to lie for his sake,” Lavi stage-whispers, wincing for real when the old man stomps on his foot. “A-anyways, Gramps, didn’t you want to go see a couple of friends?”

“I suppose I should,” the old man mutters, and begins picking his way across the room. “Thank you for your time, Miss Lee.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lenalee replies graciously, sharing a tiny, amused smile with the redhead. “I’ll see you around?”

“You bet!” Lavi grins, making to follow after the old man. “Maybe I can steal you for a dance later?”

She laughs, but the crowd swallows him up before he can catch her answer. It’s no problem either way; he still has some federal agents to outmaneuver and a flash drive to ditch. Dancing certainly isn’t a priority.

He squeezes the old man’s shoulder in thanks, stepping around him with a frown. He’ll try the elevators first; if Mikk and Bell haven’t returned to their room, then the elevator will be the best (and easiest) point of access.

With a disgruntled scowl, he pushes past the crowd, stepping out into the hallway. Across from him lie the elevator banks, and the guards – three of them, well-armed but casual about it – look up at him.

“I’m sorry, sir, this area is restricted.” One of the guards steps up to him, holding a palm up to stop him. “Please return to the event area.”

“For fuck’s sakes, man,” the redhead groans, digging through his pockets. “I just wanna get to my room and rest, ya know? There’s a goddamn line for the elevators out front, I ain’t gonna stand there for two hours just to wait my turn.”

The guards exchange a look, but remain unconvinced. “Do you have your key, sir?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He produces the key with a flourish, squinting suspiciously at the guards. “Can I go up now? Or do you wanna do a full cavity search while you’re at it?”

He pushes past the guards before they can answer, punching the ‘Up’ button vindictively. “Fuckin’ unbelievable. I pay taxes too, ya know!”

He steps into the elevator and pushes a random floor number, waiting for the doors to close. His glasses pick up a camera, but he isn’t too worried. The kid will handle the cleanup.

The elevator stops at the fifth floor, and he steps out with a frown, nonchalantly checking out the hall. It’s empty, with only a couple of cameras positioned strategically to watch the elevators and the stairwells.

He grabs his phone, thumbing through the pre-programmed numbers, waiting for the line to connect as he slowly makes his way to the stairwell. The kid picks up before he reaches the door, and he turns on his heel with a grin. “Hey, you busy?”

“When aren’t I?” The kid mutters; 49 can hear the soft tapping of keys, can only imagine him hunkering down in front of his set up. “I take it you’re in position?”

He paces down the hall, shoulders drawn in tight, hunched in on himself. “Fifth floor, yeah.”

“Ah, yes, I see you.” The kid says, tutting under his breath. “Have you seen Tyki yet?”

“At the party.” He stops against a wall, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t think he saw me.”

“Let’s hope he hasn’t.” More tapping, and the muffled sound of barking beyond. “I’m not exactly equipped to handle erasing people. That’s more your business. I just handle the technology side of things. Speaking of, how’s the tech job at Lee’s?”

“It could be worse, I guess. Everyone’s really nice.” He rolls his eyes at the camera, smirking at the kid’s exasperated huff. “You ready? I’m on a time crunch.”

“Don’t rush me, I’m almost finished looping the video feeds. They’re on the second floor, right? Let me just….” He cheers, and the agent’s glasses briefly flash green as the cameras go offline. “There. We have a nice loop for the security booth. I’ll keep watch for you while you do your business.”

“Thanks, 14.”  He makes his way to the stairwell, shouldering the heavy door open. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t call me that!” The voice over the phone bristles as Lavi makes a move to hang up. “It’s Allen! I’m not one of your nameless agents!”

“Sure, whatever.” He’ll have time to argue about the need for anonymity later. He hangs up with the kid and hurries down the three flights of stairs, strolling onto the second floor. Much like the fifth, it is silent, with security cameras trained on the exits. His glasses confirm that these cameras are also under Organization control.

Instead of heading to room 220, Lavi trains his sights on a room a couple of doors over. From his information, the room should be unoccupied, but he knocks on the thick wooden door just in case. There’s no response, so he uses his keycard to enter.

It’s a standard hotel room with standard fare – a bed, a bathroom, a television, et cetera – but he walks past them, focusing on his main target; the balcony doors. The glass slides open with a rattle, and he steps into the cool night air.

After the stifling heat of the event room, the breeze is chilling, more so against the sweat beading on his forehead. Shutting the door behind him, he takes time to check his surroundings. There’s no one outside admiring the scenery, but he can’t be sure that will be the case for long. Below the balconies is a parking lot, and he spots a couple of people arriving, but dismisses them. People don’t tend to look up very often.

The railing is cold under his hands, and holds his weight as he leans against it. Room 220 is only two doors down, and the jump between the railings isn’t nearly wide enough to be a cause of worry. At least, that’s what he tells himself, gritting his teeth as he steps back.

(He tries not to think about what will happen to him if he misses the jump and falls; it won’t kill him, maybe, but he’s of no use to the Organization if he crashes onto the asphalt below.)

Taking a deep breath, heart beating a rhythm into his ribs, he runs across the balcony, vaulting over the railing, reaching for the next one over. He overshoots the jump, and only barely manages to tuck into a roll, hissing at the impact. His head makes contact with a decorative potted plant set outside, and he smothers a few choice swears into his sleeve.

Climbing to his feet, he shakes off the dizziness, pulse throbbing in his throat as he readies for the next jump. He lands in a neat crouch on the balcony of room 220, straightening slowly as he strains to catch any sounds coming from the other side of the glass door. The blinds are drawn, and a quick tug at the door tells him that it’s locked tight.

He makes quick work of the lock with a pocketknife, and he steps inside with a frown. The lights are off, but that doesn’t mean anything. Warily, he checks the room, in the closet and the bathroom area, only relaxing when he finds he is alone. His glasses don’t pick up any surveillance equipment, thankfully, so he gets to work.

“If I was a flash drive with top secret information, where would I be?” He muses, freezing for a second as he considers the very real chance of the flash drive being on the agents themselves. It would make sense; no agent would leave vital information lying about.

Before he can start panicking, the glasses flash a quick message from Agent 14: “SILVER BRIEFCASE.”

Relieved, he starts searching again, pulling out the slim silver case from between the mattress on one of the beds. It is locked with a four-digit combination, and the case is new enough that the numbers aren’t worn down. He doesn’t have the time to sit and figure out the combination, but he sits on the floor anyways, briefcase braced securely against his chest. Pushing against the lock mechanism, he begins scrolling through the numbers, feeling for the faint catch of the tumbler falling into place.

Footsteps out in the hall make him jerk, and he almost misses the catch on the last number. Hurrying, he wrenches the briefcase open, fumbling through the documents and files. In the dark of the hotel room, it’s near impossible to spot the black drive, and he nearly dumps everything out on the floor in frustration.

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and begins searching again. He sets the files aside, running his fingers along the edges of the briefcase. There’s no drive, but he feels the raised edge of something at the bottom of the case. He pulls on the ridge experimentally, smirking to himself as the case’s false bottom lifts up.

The flash drive sits innocently in the case, packed in a foam bottom to avoid rattling. Agent 49 takes his own drive from his pocket, swapping them carefully.

And then his glasses flash red, with a countdown in the top corner that jolts him to his feet: _2:00_.

Two minutes and counting. He assumes that’s how long he has to get out before the agents show up. He takes the time to close the false bottom, shoving the documents and files haphazardly into the case. The case is then shoved back under the bed, and he scrambles to the balcony with a minute to go.

He turns to close the door, and realizes with a sinking feeling that he won’t be able to lock the door behind him, or close the blinds. They’ll know someone was in their room and probably raise the alarm. _Fuck_.

The door handle shakes, signaling their arrival; Lavi swears and slides the door shut, running across the balcony, vaulting onto the next one and the next, diving into the empty room he used with not a second to spare.

He can hear them over his frantic heartbeat and stifled breathing, loud bickering barely muffled through the thin hotel walls. Glass doors open and close with a rattle, and their voices, clearer now that they’re actually outside, start calling out orders. Security feeds, guards – anything to track down any suspicious activity.

Agent 49 lies on the floor of the empty hotel room, listening to footsteps pounding down the hall, the adrenaline high wearing off only to be replaced by an impending sense of dread. He swapped the drives and completed the mission, sure, but now he has no way of getting out.

[A little help?] He texts Allen, knowing the other will still have eyes around him. [I’m stuck.]

[Sucks to be you] Is the brat’s reply. 49 rolls his eyes, sitting up. He can still hear Bell out in the balcony, barking out orders, and the heavy footsteps of armed soldiers. He doesn’t really have any options where they won’t see him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, the message a beacon on the lock screen. [Start running in five minutes.]

He’s tempted to ask what’ll happen, but the blaring fire alarm ripping through the night is enough. The footsteps are swallowed by the piercing screech, and only the slamming of doors down the hall punch through the noise.

He waits the five minutes, slipping out of the room and down the stairs, mingling with the annoyed hotel guests tromping their way down and out the emergency exits.

Outside, the armed guards set up for the gala scramble to keep up with their employers, attempting to round up the event guests away from those actually staying in the hotel. Lavi steps into the crowd, looking around.

He considers disappearing in the commotion, until a hand grabs his arm, pulling him through the crowd. He tenses, automatically reaching for a weapon, but drops his hand in recognition. “Miss Lee? What are you doing?”

“I thought I’d lost you!” She is a little breathless and disheveled, but her smile is blindingly sweet as she pulls him to a group of guards. “Someone said something caught on fire and then everyone just rushed out of the room.”

“I guess I got caught up in the crowd,” he says, looking around. “I lost my gramps again too.”

“It’s alright, we’ll go back inside soon and we’ll find him.” She says it with such confidence, the grip on his arm anchoring him the present, to the feel of her hand and the warmth that radiates from it. In any other situation his mind would be racing a million miles a minute, focused on the mission and what he had just narrowly avoided.

He knows, realistically, he should leave as soon as he manages to shake her off, but his mouth runs away from him and before he knows it, he’s nodding along, smile matching hers. “Maybe we can even get our dance.”

She laughs, and they wait until the guards and hotel services usher them back inside. His phone goes off in his pocket a couple of times, all warning messages from Allen to get out before he’s compromised, all which Lavi ignores.

Instead, he trails after Lenalee, in search for his elusive “grandfather”. He learns a lot from her as they wander between guests, things her files never mentioned; she was almost a professional dancer, she liked baking as a hobby, and her favorite food was chocolate cake. (He’s proud of the fact that he manages to deflect most of her questions about him, but did drop the ball a few times when she wheedled at him. It’s all inconsequential stuff, so it doesn’t really matter.)

 “I think he probably went home,” Lavi mutters after another circuit of the event floor.

Lenalee’s nose scrunches, and a furrow forms on her brow. “Do you want to check again? We could talk to security too, maybe they saw him leave.”

“Nah.” He beams at her, winking. “It’s alright. He can take care of himself. He just doesn’t do well in crowds after a while, you know?”

“Yeah…” Subdued, Lenalee turns away. “Does that mean you have to go now too?”

He knows he should say yes, knows he should turn away with a wan smile and a wave, with a halfhearted promise of seeing her later. He _knows_ he should.

“I can stay a bit more,” he says instead, because apparently he’s going to tempt fate until it comes bite him in the ass. She brightens, and he can’t help but smile. “I can’t leave without a dance, can I?”

“I guess you can’t,” she teases. The music changes, and she dips into an exaggerated curtsey. “Do you know how to waltz?”

“Uh…” Agent 49 does, but his hesitation evidently tells Lenalee that Lavi does not.

Lenalee laughs, taking his hands and pulling him to the dance floor. “It’s alright. I can teach you.”

“I’ll try not to step on you,” Lavi says, setting his hand on her shoulder hesitantly. Lenalee rolls her eyes and adjusts his stance. The music swells, and they set off, mingling with the other couples dancing around.

He’s torn between staring at her and staring at his feet, and ends up doing both in some capacity. He’s still under her hands, and even the gentle prodding on her part isn’t helping matters.

“Just relax,” she whispers, flawlessly maneuvering them around a slower couple. He nods and oversteps, genuinely horrified when he steps on her. To her credit, her smile never falters, but he does not miss the slight clench of her jaw. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

It’s all downhill from there. He steps on her a few more times, tries to correct, and ends up bumping into a couple of other dancers (including maybe Lulu Bell, but he wasn’t sure and didn’t stop to check.) By the time the music stops, he’s frazzled and more than a little overwhelmed.

“You just need more practice,” Lenalee assures him at the door, squeezing his hands. He nods stiffly, ignoring the glares her bodyguard is sending his way. “I’ll see you at work, Lavi.”

“Y-yeah…” He clears his throat, waving as she heads to her limousine with her entourage in tow. “Good night, Lenalee.”

He stands at the entrance of the hotel for a while, staring after her car. His chest hurts. He isn’t really sure why; he usually feels better when a mission is a success.

That’s all she is, he tells himself as he walks home. She’s just a mission. 


	4. si tu savais

“Your targets have bounties on their heads.”

It’s definitely not the first thing he wants to hear in the morning, and Agent 49 makes it a point to say so.

He can almost picture Allen shrugging at his screen, phone tucked into his shoulder as he worked. “I called you as soon as I saw the notice. It’s been up for thirteen hours, so do with that what you will.”

“Thanks, I think,” 49 mutters, shuffling to his own laptop. “How bad is it?”

“Bad. Pretty bad.” Allen clears his throat. “In fact, you might want to be careful. Or not, I suppose. You’ll have to dispose of them once you’re finished with this mission, right?”

“But I’m not finished yet,” the agent replies testily, running a hand through his hair irritably. “Do you know who’s after them?”

Allen hums, the sound of keys filtering through the receiver. “Not by name, no, but they’re professionals.”

“The Lees have bodyguards.” 49 glances through his files, pulling up the security staff details. He’s dealt with Kanda Yuu, but the rest of the staff is formidable too. “You’ve seen them.”

“Sure,” Allen says mildly. “But they’re not _that_ good.”

“Fuck.” The agent stares at his screen, scanning the files. The bodyguards the Lees employ are _very_ good, and most have some kind of military training under their belts. If the threats are as bad as Allen says, though, even that won’t be enough.

“What are you going to do?” Allen asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Agent 49 frowns, feeling a stress headache growing at the back of his head. “I guess I’m going to stop them.”

* * *

It takes calling in a couple of favors, but 49 manages to get a detail to follow Komui Lee. Fou isn’t very happy about sparing agents, but Shifu, Li Kei and Lou Hua have potential. Hopefully the three of them can manage whatever comes their way.

He follows Lenalee, trailing her through the city while she runs errands. It’s tedious, but he can’t fault the assassins for choosing a holiday weekend to go after them; with so much going on, it would be easy to slip in and make their deaths look like an accident.

“This is riveting,” Allen yawns in his ear, managing surveillance for him. “It’s not like I could be doing other things right now.”

“It’s your own fault for warning me,” 49 murmurs, tucking his nose into his scarf. Lenalee’s doing some last-minute shopping downtown, and he’s slowly weaving through the crowd after her.

“Remind me not to do that anymore.” Allen says. “Speaking of, you’re being tailed. Blue windbreaker, black baseball cap.”

49 stops at a crosswalk, looking around surreptitiously, and barely catches sight of the tail before they duck into a shop. “I saw. You sure it’s one of them?”

“Almost positive,” Allen confirms. “That’s the only one I’ve managed to catch so far.”

“Roger that.” The light turns green, and 49 follows the crowd across the street. With the hood of his coat pulled up, he blends into the large group, keeping in view of the CCTV cameras for Allen’s sake.

Lenalee leads him halfway across town before things get messy.

The city at night is busier, harder to navigate, and 49 hopes it is enough to distract their tail. Lenalee maneuvers it easily, flitting from shop to shop laden with bags. 49 is tempted to step in to help, if only to get closer, when Allen makes an alarmed sound in his ear.

“Oh, damn, I know who it is.” The next few minutes are filled with the increasingly frantic clicking of keys and a few choice swears in Hindi that 49 hadn’t heard in a while.

He tries to keep his irritation in check, side-stepping a group of tourists in an effort to close the gap between himself and Lenalee. “Are you going to tell me or just swear at your computer?”

“Kazekiri,” Allen says tersely, swearing softly. “Not very smart, but he’s good at what he does. He’s almost a level three. Can you handle it or should I call for backup?”

“It’s fine.” At least he hopes so. He sees Lenalee duck into another store, and decides to nip the situation in the bud.

49 ducks into the crowd, hunching into his coat, shoulders drawn in to appear smaller. The bright neon lights of the shops and billboards around them are blinding, and he uses them to his advantage as he slips behind the assassin.

Kazekiri stops in the middle of the sidewalk, looking around in confusion as the crowd moves around him. 49 takes a deep breath, patting his pockets for weapons, and moves in.

A quick jostle moves Kazekiri aside, a casual enough move that it doesn’t faze the assassin until 49 bodily shoves him into a darkened alley. There is a flurry of activity, but the bright lights don’t cut through the gloom in the alley, and the shift from dazzling neon to near darkness is enough for 49 to move in.

Kazekiri doesn’t stand a chance.

It’s over in a second, 49’s knife wedged deep between the would-be assassin’s ribs, his hand over the other’s mouth to muffle any sound. The assassin squirms weakly in his grip, but the wound is fatal, and he is gone in a whisper.

49 drops him distastefully, stepping out of the alley. “Done. Where’s Lenalee?”

“Not too far, just a block over.” Allen says. “Hey, I have a question.”

“What is it?” 49 walks into the crowd, weaving through harried pedestrians and gawking tourists. Allen’s words are drowned out by a sudden burst of barking. “I didn’t catch that.”

Allen lets out an exasperated sigh in his ear. “I said, shouldn’t Lenalee’s bodyguard be around? I wouldn’t think she’d be out by herself for so long.”

49 stumbles on nothing, and hopes luck is on his side. “That’s…a good question. I don’t know where he is.”

It’s not.

“Uh-oh,” Allen whispers as something hard jams into the agent’s back.

_Uh-oh_ , 49 thinks, tensing as Kanda Yuu pushes him out of the crowd.


	5. tous les mêmes

The café is bustling, early morning patrons scrambling for breakfast while late-night stragglers tuck into a post-shift dinner.

49 scowls at his phone, feet kicked up on the chair across from him in an effort to save the seat. It’s too early for him to be awake, much less dealing with so many strangers at his back. It’s too crowded, and there are too many variables to take into account in case someone tries anything fishy.

“You’re slouching,” a voice cuts through the chatter, and 49 lets go of the death grip he has on his phone.

“You’re late,” he says instead, watching the old man approach the table. He doesn’t miss the wary scan he gives the surrounding area, but it seems he deems it secure enough as he whacks his feet off the chair and takes a seat.

“I am never late,” the old man counters, watching 49 until the latter straightens up in his chair. “You’re just early.”

49 rolls his eyes, dropping his chin on his hand as the old man begins perusing the menu leisurely. “So why’d you invite me out.”

“Curiosity,” he says, peering at 49 over the edge of the menu. “I heard about the assassins.”

Of course. The night was still a blur, and 49 knew he had Allen to thank for the cover, but even a few days later he still has a hard time wrapping his head around the whole ordeal. He grunts into his cold coffee, grimacing through the taste. “Yeah?”

A waitress comes around with a strained smile and a fresh cup of coffee for 49, and takes the old man’s order before hurrying off back into the crowd.

“How did it go?” The old man prompts, and 49 stalls by taking a long sip of his coffee. It burns, and tastes like someone scraped the remains of a French press into a frying pan, but it serves its purpose.

The old man is unimpressed, but he’s always been patient.  

Feeling far too young, 49 sets his mug down and drops his chin on his hand again. “You really want to have this conversation out here?”

“There’s no better place,” the old man smirks, turning to the waitress with a soft thanks as she sets his food on the table. “So go on.”

“I took care of it.” 49 snaps, reaching for his mug again. He’s not much of a fan of coffee, but everything about their impromptu meeting is setting him on edge. He needs something to keep his hands still before he does something reckless. “What does it matter?”

“I expect a proper report,” the old man says, digging into his breakfast. “I may not be your handler anymore, but I did train you, boy. Now, how did it go?”

“It went fine!” 49 huffs irritably into his mug, reaching across the table to steal a slice of toast off the old man’s plate. “I’m fine, he’s not dead, the mission’s not compromised. What more do you want?”

“What happened?”

The old man is infuriating, and Lavi will someday figure out how he does it. Taking a deep breath, 49 rips the crust off the toast in his hands, frowning at the crumbs. “It was dark. He was cocky. Didn’t expect me to fight back.” He makes a jerky motion with his head, taking a bite of the toast. “So I incapacitate him and ran.”

“You broke his nose?” The old asks over the rim of his cup, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“I broke his nose,” 49 sighs. His knuckles are still bruised from the scuffle, and he’s not sure how he’s going to hide it. “Broke his clavicle too, I think.”

“You’re getting sloppy,” the old man says, sliding the other piece of toast on his plate closer to 49. “I taught you better than that.”

“Is that why you’re treating me to breakfast?” Lavi asks pointedly, taking the slice anyways.

The old man laughs, reaching for his coffee again. “Who said anything about me treating you?”

The conversation turns to lighter topics, and 49 is surprised by how much he missed the old man. It’d been years since he was last working directly under him, but it feels natural going back. He even feels himself relax in the crowd, letting the loud chatter drown out their talk.

“What will you do now?”

Lavi starts at the old man’s sudden question, dropping his gaze to the crumbs on his plate. “Dunno.”

“I would suggest you take advantage of your situation and move onto your other mission now that the bodyguard is out of the picture.” The old man slips out his wallet, tucking a crisp hundred dollar bill under his plate. “It’s not ideal, of course, but you’re running out of time.”

49 sighs, waving absently as the man walks away, waiting a few minutes before following his lead. He’s been dreading setting up for his secondary mission, but he can’t put it off forever.

* * *

Lenalee knocks on his cubicle around eleven, just as he’s fishing under his desk for a pen that rolled under his tower. Startled, Lavi bangs his head into the desk, swearing softly as he crawls out from under the desk. His head throbs – he managed to hit the exact spot Kanda’s nose had made contact with his head – but manages a weak smile as he looks up at Lenalee. “Hi. Ow.”

Lenalee looks torn between laughing and genuine concern, and settles for holding her hand out to him with a soft smile. “I’m so sorry, I thought you heard me.”

“It-it’s fine!” He takes her hand slowly, pushing himself up with the other. “I’m fine, boss.”

“Are you sure? That looked like it hurt.” Lenalee squeezes his hand, and Lavi jerks it out of her grip reflexively, the sting from his bruised knuckles echoing the ache at the back of his head.

Smiling sheepishly, he plays off the sudden motion by reaching for the lump on his head, brushing the tender area gingerly. “I’m fine, honest. Just a little bump.”

“Do you want to get it checked out?” Frowning now, Lenalee moves her hand towards his head, touch light as a feather as she runs her fingers across the bump. “I could call someone…”

“Nah.” Lavi laughs, taking her hand and easing it away from his head. “Miss Lee, you’re a liability.”

Surprised, Lenalee looks up at him, taking half a step back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He grins, winking, and feels a smug sense of pride at the way her ears turn red. “I keep getting hurt around you. First the charity, now this? You’re a danger to my health.”

It’s not quite the reaction he’s expecting, but the snort of a laugh is cute nonetheless, and he doesn’t miss the tension easing from her shoulders. Lenalee covers her mouth, red coloring her cheeks. “I guess I am, huh?”

Lavi leans back against his desk, watching her expectantly. “Did you need something?”

“I wanted to thank you, actually,” and just like that, Lenalee is back to business, shoulders a little tighter, back a little straighter. It makes him sit up too.

“For what?” He feigns ignorance for all of five seconds, but the look Lenalee gives him makes him laugh. “Did you like them?”

“I did, very much.” Lenalee sets her elbow on the wall of his cubicle, tapping her fingers against the plastic runner absently. “They’re beautiful, Lavi. I don’t get flowers often.”

“Well, maybe you should.” It’s earnest, or so he hopes. It seems to catch her off guard, and he hopes he’s pushing in the right direction. Clearing his throat, Lavi looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “You deserve ‘em, so…”

She blushes and makes to respond, the phone on Lavi’s desk rings loud enough to make him jump. Swearing softly, he makes a grab for the receiver, watching Lenalee step away with a small wave and a small ‘thank you.’

Sighing, Lavi answers the call, tone sickly sweet. “Good morning! How can I help you?”


	6. i can see you sinking down

Agent 49 assumes actually getting close to Lenalee Lee is going to be a challenge, even without her bodyguard. She is, after all, a successful executive and heir apparent to a multi-million dollar company. The security in the building is top-notch, and there always seems to be _someone_ in the vicinity whenever Miss Lee is around. Every record he has on Lenalee implies that she is rarely, if ever, alone, and getting her away is going to be a challenge.

He supposes he’s glad it’s not the case, though it feels almost too easy as he knocks on her door after clocking out, the floor behind him devoid of workers. “Miss Lee?”

“Lenalee,” she corrects automatically, looking up to blink blearily at him before nudging a stack of files on her desk out of the way. “Time to go?”

“Uh, yeah…” Lavi fidgets at the door, motioning behind him with his thumb. “Everyone’s gone already. You heading out too?”

“Maybe later. I need to finish this first.” She smiles thinly, and even from the door Lavi can see the bags under her eyes. “Be careful out there, okay? See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah…” He makes a motion to leave, but turns on his heel after a beat, hesitant. “Do…you need any help? I don’t mind sticking around.”

Lenalee looks up again, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “I don’t want to keep you, Lavi. I can handle it.”

“Sure you can,” Lavi agrees easily, making his way into the room, sliding his bag off his shoulder. “But together we can handle it faster, right?”

She falters when he takes a seat in one of the soft leather chairs in front of her desk, and sighs in defeat at the sight of the files on her desk. “You know we can’t give you overtime for this.”

He nods, scooting the chair closer to her desk. “It’s not a big deal, honest. You just look exhausted.”

“Well, gee, tell me how you really feel, Lavi,” she murmurs under her breath, flushing red at Lavi’s bark of laughter. “Do I really look that bad?”

“Bad? Never.” He winks exaggeratedly, rolling his sleeves up. “Tired? Absolutely. What do you need me to do?”

Lenalee pats the desk in front of her lightly, looking around the scattered papers and files in an effort to organize her thoughts. “If you want, and it’s not too much trouble, you could help me prepare these files for the board meeting tomorrow?”

“Sure!” Lavi shoots her a quick grin, taking the files she slides over, making sure to brush her fingers casually. “Just put them in order or…?”

“And if you could hole-punch them, please?” She asks, a tinge of red flaring on her cheeks.

He nods, reaching across her desk for the hole-puncher, grinning at the vase of flowers still on her desk. They’re a little wilted, but holding strong. “You really liked them?”

“Of course I did.” Lenalee moves the vase out of the way, holding it while Lavi pulls the hole-puncher towards himself. “My brother almost threw a fit, but when he saw Bridgette and Cash had flowers too, he let it go.”

Lavi frowns in concern, opening the first of the manila folders on his stack. “Should I not have…?”

“No! No, don’t take it the wrong way,” Lenalee says, shuffling through the papers on her desk. “He’s just...overprotective.”

Lavi tries not to snort, stacking the papers in front of him neatly. The horror stories the tech crew shares about Komui Lee in relation to his sister are unbelievable; overprotective is hardly the right word to describe it.

It must show on his face, because Lenalee huffs, flicking a paperclip in his direction before signing off on some paperwork. “He’s not that bad. They’re exaggerating.”

“Are they though?” Lavi asks lightly, punching through the first stack of papers before sliding them into the prongs of the folder.

“Sometimes.” Lenalee shrugs, mouth twisting into a faint scowl as she turns back to her work in earnest. “He worries. I understand that.”

“That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though.” Lavi says. She shrugs again, and they settle into a quiet rhythm, broken only by the screech of the hole-puncher.

“Was it always like that?” He asks after a while, brushing paper dust off his pants. Lenalee hums in question, sparing him a quick look until he elaborates. “Was your brother always so overprotective?”

“I don’t remember.” She stretches, smothering a yawn into her fist. “Old friends of his say he wasn’t, but I was pretty young when our parents died, so that’s all I know.”

Lavi knew their parents were dead, but he isn’t sure he expected such a nonchalant answer. He wipes his hands on his thighs, sorting through the finished files absently. “Does it bother you?”

She pauses, pen hovering over the paper in front of her. “That he’s like that?”

He nods, drawing the files to his chest as she puts her pen down. The look she gives him is calculating, as if she’s trying to figure out why he’s asking, or if he has an ulterior motive. He does, but he doesn’t think she’ll jump to that particular conclusion. Still, he can’t help the relief he feels when she looks away.

“Komui’s given up a lot of things for me,” she says slowly, collecting the papers scattered across her desk into a pile. “We didn’t have a lot, growing up, but I know he did his best to make sure I had the best education, that I didn’t have to worry about bills or having enough anything. Things like that.”

She gnaws on her lower lip, considering him. “He’s worked very hard to make this company what it is. He’s always wanted to help people, and since the company took off, there’s been times where people he thought he could trust took advantage of him.”

Lavi nods, ignoring the bead of sweat that suddenly runs down the back of his neck. “Sure…”

“I got kidnapped once, you know.” She leans back in her seat, sliding down until her chin touches her chest. She looks a lot younger in that position, the neat lines of her blazer bunched up at her back. “I was in middle school, and someone thought I’d be a good bargaining chip.”

That, he didn’t know about. Lavi leans in, brow furrowed. “What happened then?”

“Cops found me. It didn’t really last long,” she adds at the look on his face. “I have a GPS tracker on my phone, and someone called in a tip…” She waves her hand over her shoulder as if to dismiss the rest of the story. “But it really rattled my brother. I had to fight tooth and nail to go back to school.”

“With a bodyguard, I guess?” Lavi sets the files down on the desk in front of him, patting the creases lightly as if to make them go away.

Lenalee snorts, sitting up to take the files and dropping them into a drawer on her side of the desk. “Bodyguards were the least of it. It kind of made being a teenager a hassle.”

“I bet.” Lavi frowns, the leather creaking under him as he adjusts his seat. “What then?”

“I asked him once about it. He said he didn’t want to have to go to another funeral for a family member again.” The smile on her face is bittersweet, her eyes drawn to a paperweight on her desk in the shape of a butterfly. “That helped put things into perspective, I guess.”

“I guess,” Lavi echoes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. He’s learned plenty, but he’s not sure where to go from there. “I’m…sorry to hear that.”

“It‘s fine,” Lenalee says breezily, flipping her monitor off. “I appreciate everything Komui’s done. And we’re okay now.”

Lavi reaches down to grab his bag, peeking up at her over the edge of the desk. “Do you regret anything?”

Lenalee tilts her head absently, grabbing her bag and keys from a drawer. “Not really regret…” She waits for him to stand, following him out of the office, turning off lights on their way out. “It’d be nice to be normal once in a while, I guess. Go to the movies with friends maybe.”

“So why not do it?” Lavi turns to hold the door open, letting her duck under his arm. “You can have a night out, right?”

“I don’t have too many friends,” she admits, if a little strained. He follows her towards the elevator banks, stunned as her heels click on the tiled floor. _Too easy_.

“I can be your friend.” Lavi pushes the button for the elevator down, leaning against the cool marble wall to watch her. “We’re kinda the same age, right?”

Lenalee squints up at him, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch?” Lavi grins, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t have too many friends either. And I like movies.”

She stares at him, mulling it over when the elevator dings. “Just friends?”

“Just friends,” he promises, sliding into the elevator and just barely catching himself from tripping over the threshold. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Lenalee laughs and follows him, stepping over the gap purposefully. “Alright. Friends then.”

Agent 49 beams.


	7. history out on the floor

He receives the message a rainy afternoon, rousing him from a light sleep.

_Finish it._

Nothing more, though he never expects much from the higher ups. The message sits unread in his inbox for a week before he acknowledges it, frowning at the black letters on his phone.

His apartment, as stark as it was the day he moved in, feels somehow colder as he turns his phone in his hands, turning to face his computer.

Methodically, he runs through the mission’s details, as if he hadn’t already memorized them, as if Lenalee’s picture wasn’t burned into his mind. He had the files the Organization needed on hand, having collected data from Komui’s enterprises since he had started at the company. That could be wrapped up in the next few weeks, if not days.

It’s the second mission that leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, and he spends too much time reading over the information, as if something will have changed in the time since he last went through it. Get close to the COO, get information. Dispose.

49 has done so many missions in a similar vein that it should be simple enough to get it over and done with. Lenalee Lee would be met with an unfortunate accident, and society would mourn for a time before the next big disaster struck. There would be no reason for suspicion, and Lavi Bookman would disappear from Lee Industries some time after. Simple, if not for the uneasy feeling he gets in his chest at the thought of going through with it.

Lavi’s phone chimes softly at a quarter to four, and he feels a twinge at the sight of Lenalee’s name on the sender’s box.

_Today at 5, right?_

It’s a simple confirmation, but he knows she’s been looking forward to their movie nights. He hadn’t realized it before, but for all that Lenalee is strong and capable and welcoming to everyone, she’s so incredibly lonely. Understandable, considering she’s worth millions, but it still takes a toll on someone so young. (So he assumes; he’s made it fine without friends, but he supposes an assassin isn’t the best person to ask about interpersonal relationships.)

Lavi sighs, ignoring the message from the Organization to thumb over her name, trying to fight the smile threatening to bubble up at the thought of another afternoon with Lenalee.

_You bet. Can’t wait._

* * *

“I’m just saying, that ending could have been done better.” Lenalee brandishes her popsicle like a sword, lips stained purple, and a small part of Lavi screams about how they’d probably taste like grapes if he just leaned over a bit more.

49 takes a bite out of his orange popsicle instead, wincing at the blinding cold shooting to his head, and he stops with a groan to press his palm into his forehead. “Ow.”

Lenalee laughs, a tiny snort sneaking in through her hands – and it’s a testament to his thoroughness that he knows without a doubt that she’ll cover her mouth when she laughs when they’re out in public– as Lavi squirms and rubs his forehead as if it’ll ease the brain freeze.

“You okay?” She asks once the worst of the pain has passed. Her smile’s teasing, and nothing short of devious, and Lavi feels a flush that he blames entirely on the cold he still feels in his head.

“Been better,” he grouses instead, sniffing. “But, yeah, I agree. I give it a six out of ten.” Nodding to himself, Lavi steps behind Lenalee as the doorman to her building greets them. “Special effects were good, but not enough to carry the movie.”

Lenalee rolls her eyes, digging through her purse for the keys to her apartment, leading the way to the elevators. A few tenants greet her, but pay Lavi no mind. Rich types are nosy, usually, but everyone in the building seems content to mind their own business, preoccupied with their own affairs.

“I give it a seven out of ten.” Lenalee smiles once the elevator doors close, leaning against the wall across from Lavi. “The acting wasn’t that bad, they just didn’t wrap it up well.”

“You’re being too generous,” he snorts, licking a trail of melting orange syrup off his wrist. “ _I_ could act better than those guys.”

Lenalee gives him an amused look, like she doesn’t believe him but will humor him anyways, and leads the way to her suite. Lavi huffs and trails after her, finishing his popsicle. “I can!”

“Remember that day we were trying to set up a surprise birthday party for Reever?” And while, yes, Lavi did spill the beans, he managed to keep it together at least until lunch.

He huffs again, pouting, and drops his entire weight on her back while she fumbles her keys. “You  _wound_  me, Miss Lee! How will I go on?”

Lenalee laughs, bracing herself against the door to stay upright. “Lavi, you’re gonna make me drop my keys!”

Lavi snorts, dropping his chin on her shoulder to blow in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her steady when she squeals at the sensation and tries to wiggle away. “Sorry, Miss Lee, this is your punishment!” His fingers skim her sides, and her squeals turn into shrieks of laughter that echo down the hall.

A door down the hall slams, and Lavi pulls his hands away like he’s been scalded, smiling sheepishly as Lenalee coughs and tries to regain her breath. Her hair’s mussed from trying to squirm away, and her eyeliner is a little smudged, but she still looks gorgeous. And annoyed, but Lavi’s okay with that.

“I’m gonna get you back for that,” she whispers, unlocking her door and shoving it open. “Just you wait.”

“Is that a promise?” Lenalee almost shuts the door in his face, but she laughs anyways.

Lavi wanders in to the large penthouse suite, taking in the wall to ceiling windows and the growing lights of the city beyond. It’s a gorgeous view, and the space is minimalistic, but comfortable. He settles on the couch with a yawn, watching Lenalee cross this way and that, heels discarded by the entrance so her footsteps barely make a sound.

He’s comfortable, sinking into the couch while Lenalee takes care of whatever business might have cropped up while they were out. The air of familiarity around them is warm, and he can almost fool himself into imagining this as a thing normal people do with their friends.

The gun digging into his back reminds him otherwise, but he puts on a smile for Lenalee anyways.

(He tells himself it’s not the right time; there were witnesses that saw him going up with her. It’s too risky to do it now. Best save it for later.)


	8. sitting in the middle of nowhere

He sleeps over more often than not, Lenalee’s penthouse warm and comforting in every way his apartment is not. Even the couch is heaven compared to his stiff cot, and he finds that he rarely dreams when he’s with Lenalee.

He ignores the messages that pile up on his phone, ignores the emails Allen sends him, pushes all of it to the back of his mind and continues to enjoy Lenalee’s presence, her smile and her laughter and the light in her eyes.

“I’m in too deep,” he confesses to Allen, on one of the few days he stays in his own apartment, pacing around his little coffee table, chest unbearably tight. “I can’t do this, Allen, I fucked up.”

_“I’d say I’m surprised,”_ Allen muses, voice tinny on his end.  _“But I’m really not. You’re in love, mate.”_

“I can’t be!” 49 sputters, almost stamping his foot at the absurdity of it all. “I’m-I’m—“

_“Yes, yes, world-renown spy, best of the best, et cetera_.” Allen sniffs, and all Lavi hears for a few minutes is his keyboard.  _“What are you going to do? If you leave they’ll just send in someone else to finish the job.”_

“I won’t let that happen.” It’s a silly statement, made more silly by the fact that he’s half-undressed from a day with Lenalee, and he has no business declaring himself some sort of savior. He’s killed people, after all. Still, he musters up some semblance of dignity. “I can’t let that happen.”

_“I’m sure.”_ Allen’s tone is bland at best, and Lavi can picture him smiling thinly at his screen. Indulging him.

_“Whatever you decide, you probably should do it quickly. FBI is still on the lookout for you, and you’ve got plenty of friends wanting to give you a warm welcome across the pond as well.”_  Allen’s statement sends a burst of acid across Lavi’s tongue, and he lets himself drop on his cot with a sigh.

“I know. I know…I’ll think of something.” Lavi ends the call with a sigh, feeling far lonelier than he’s ever felt before.

He wishes he could talk to someone, but there are very few people in the business he could trust with something so…raw. Allen he trusts because of their history, but Allen cares little for the affairs of the heart.

Lavi drops heavily onto his cot, scrolling to Lenalee’s name on his phone. 

“Fuck.”

* * *

“What do you mean, you’re putting in your two weeks’ notice?” Lenalee looks shocked, pen slack in her hands, and Lavi would laugh if his chest wasn’t still crushed in a vise grip.

Lavi lets his sheepish smile drop, rubbing at the back of his neck to ease the pain building. “It’s nothing personal,” he murmurs. “Just…my gramps hasn’t been doing so hot, and the doctors don’t think he’s going to…you know.”

He swallows thickly, watching Lenalee’s face go from stunned to concerned, her hands grasping his like they did during their first dance. He squeezes back gently, offering her a thin smile. “I just want to be with him, make sure he’s alright for when it happens, you know?”

“Of course,” she breathes, thumbs rubbing soothing circles over his knuckles, and Lavi feels a quick sting of guilt at lying. As if he hadn’t been lying all this time. “If you want, we can work with you. I’m sure my brother wouldn’t mind if you worked from home or something!”

“I can’t ask that of him.” Lavi squeezes her hands and lets go, shoving his hands in his pockets before he does something he regrets. “That wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Honest, it’ll be okay. Who knows, after….Maybe I could come back?”

“There’s always a position open for you,” Lenalee says, and beams despite the sudden glassy look in her eyes. “Thank you for the warning, Lavi.”

“No problem.” He shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, taking in the office one last time. “I guess this is it…”

Lenalee sighs, and her shoulders drop for a second before she steels herself. “Before you go…How about one last party?”

“What?” Lavi follows Lenalee around her desk, glancing at the scattered papers littered across it. He has almost all the information he needs, but habit makes him skim through the work anyways. 

Lenalee brushes some of the papers off her keyboard, producing a gilded invitation. “It’s for a charity event,” she explains, holding it out to him to peruse. “I had been meaning to ask you to go with me anyways…”

Lavi wants to say no. He  _should_  say no. It’s not safe for them to be together anymore, and the sooner he leaves the better.

“I would love to,” he says instead, his traitorous heart beating a tattoo against his ribcage. “Anything for you.”

She beams at him, and he fights the dread sinking in his bones.

As he leaves the Lee building, as he makes his way to his apartment, he reminds himself that it’ll be fine. He’s a professional, and he hasn’t broken any rules yet.

It’ll be fine.

He’ll be fine.


End file.
